


Staring Death in the Face

by provencepuss



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provencepuss/pseuds/provencepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First written in 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staring Death in the Face

STARING DEATH IN THE FACE

Prologue  
Hutch grinned. Starsky had won the table tennis tournament yet again and now he was reeling off the menu of his dream dinner as he trotted round to open the driver’s door.  
Hutch didn’t know why he hesitated, a premonition perhaps? The black and white began to pull out of its spot. Hutch sensed that something was wrong and yelled to his partner who was still fantasizing about the New York steak he was going to eat that evening. The black and white scraped against the car parked next to it and Hutch’s world started to run in slow motion.  
“Starsky!” he yelled a warning as he pulled his gun. Gunshots rang out and Starsky fell.  
Hutch froze to the spot. The slow motion had become a freeze frame and he couldn’t move. Hutch didn’t even notice what happened to the black and white. His brain was numbed by the echo of the gunfire. Later he would learn that he fired four shots.   
He looked over to where Starsky should be. He should be standing there with his gun at the ready – legs spread and knees bent, bracing himself to get in an accurate shot. Hutch stared at the empty space. He felt his arm retract and return his gun to the shoulder holster. He moved forward; each step seemed to take a minute, his legs were heavy, his feet like lead.  
Hutch looked at the shattered glass where the car’s windows should have been and the line of bullet holes scarring the red paintwork.  
Candy apple red…blood red… Hutch looked down again.   
Starsky was hunched against the wheel of the Torino.   
The pool of blood was spreading slowly and the blood wasn’t candy apple red or bright red – it was dark blood that was seeping out of Starsky’s wounds and taking his life with it. Hutch heard his voice inside his head; that’s his lifeblood.  
It seemed as if he was moving against the tide. He knelt down beside Starsky and saw the bullet holes. A line of three neat black holes formed a diagonal pattern in Starsky’s beloved flying jacket; as he knelt down Hutch saw the edge of the fourth hole hardly visible where Starsky’s body touched the ground.  
“Starsk? Dave? Hey buddy…”  
He looked at the blood on his hands; I’ll have his blood on my hands for the rest of my life. I didn’t warn him in time.  
He thought he heard Starsky laugh; he could hear his voice with its Brooklyn accent. “Don’t you go on another of your guilt trips, buddy; I can’t come to pull you back.”  
Hutch crouched over Starsky’s body and gathered him up into his arms. He heard his own voice yell for help. He was aware of other people gathering; he heard another car start and the wail of a siren as it went in pursuit of the murderous fake cops in the genuine black and white.   
He was holding Starsky close to him now. He could feel the blood seeping into his own shirt.  
Starsky was still breathing, but only just. Hutch could sense his stubborn friend’s determination not to let go; he held him as tightly as he could in a desperate bid to stem the flow of blood; he reached a hand up under Starsky’s T-shirt and sighed. The skin was still warm but there was something wrong; it took him a moment to realize what it was, three bullet holes in the jacket and Hutch could only feel two exit holes.  
He’s bleeding inside.  
They came and took Starsky away from him. Dobey was there, comforting, avuncular trying to protect Hutch from his own fear. Hutch finally let go and the paramedic got to work. When they were satisfied that they could move Starsky, they lifted him gently onto a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance. Dobey led Hutch to his car and drove close behind the ambulance that sped through the city surrounded by cars and motorbikes with flashing lights and wailing sirens. Every cop in the precinct knew and liked Dave Starsky. He was the clown but he was also deadly serious when he had to be. Hutch fleetingly wondered if his colleagues would be escorting his ambulance in the same way, then he remembered the Torino and its wild but determined driver. He’d have an escort all right!  
The ambulance slowed down. Dobey braked. “What the hell have they slowed down for?” he grumbled. But Hutch knew why. He’d done a little more than pre-med after all; he’d spent vacation time riding with a paramedic crew.  
“He’s dead. They slow down when they lose them.”   
Dobey shot him and angry look and then cursed as the ambulance picked up speed and hit the sirens again.  
Hutch sighed and Dobey said nothing. “I guess he held on.”  
Hutch started to track down the killers and ended up tracing a path right up to the man who considered being the President of the United States as a downward career move.  
Starsky died twice more before finally pulling through.  
That was six months ago and today Hutch was going to bring him home.  
Starsky’s POV  
.  
I‘ve heard people who say how they see a light at the end of a tunnel – or maybe the people they loved beckoning them across the line. I didn’t have any of that. I had pain. My chest felt like someone dropped the Torino on it and my lungs were screaming for air and my head was aching worse than any migraine I ever had before….and then there was the pain of the shocks that forced my heart to beat again.   
You’ve seen the movies and the TV shows; they put the paddles or the pads on the poor schmuck’s chest and the doc says ‘stand clear’ so only the guy lying on the bed feels the searing burning pain of an electric shock.  
They’ve done it to me twice now and believe me, it hurts like hell!  
I’ve been there before. Staring Death in the face; wondering if it’s my turn this time. The Grim Reaper; a hooded figure with a big black scythe…is that how you see him? Or maybe you see Death as a big grinning skeleton. I read someplace that the ancient Egyptians and some other guys – the Greeks maybe? –thought death was some kind of river you have to cross. The ferryboat arrives and the man in the black cloak beckons you aboard.  
I think it’s a big black abyss. You ever stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon? I did! Yeah, me, Dave Starsky, the guy who gets the heebie-jeebies looking out of a first floor window! I was getting my act together before I reported to the Academy…trying to get death out of my mind. That’s what it seemed like to me. The big plunge down into a dark bottomless canyon; no wonder I pulled myself back from the edge every time.   
Hutch once said I move like a cat. Cats are supposed to have nine lives. I’ve been figuring up and I don’t have many more points on my tally. Hutch was there for some of the times; he knows about one of the others…but he doesn’t know about the other time.  
I wonder how Hutch sees Death. I wonder if he thinks Death is a friend or a foe.  
I see him as a friend sometimes. There are times when I want to reach out and let him lead me into that chasm. It would have been so easy to let go…to step into the void and join the ones waiting for me on the other side; the ones that went before; the ones I loved and who left me behind; the friends I couldn’t stop from going on ahead.  
That’s when I think maybe Death is a big dark black-winged angel. Lucifer, the most beautiful and vain of the archangels, condemned to Hell by his jealous boss.  
Hutch is out there; I can sense his presence. I’ll bet he’s praying too. He keeps it quiet but he’s still a good Lutheran boy at heart. In all the time I’ve known him he’s never gone to church though – except to weddings and too damn many funerals. I don’t think he really understood my attitude. He couldn’t handle the idea of me celebrating Christmas; but he didn’t understand. When I was a kid it was Hanukah and that was great but when I came out here and Uncle Al and Aunt Rosa did both holidays it was like being let loose in the candy store. Anyway I love all that…what did he call it?...euphoric sentimentalism? Something like that! Typical Hutch…big words to cover up how he really felt. So anyway I started to go see the rabbi again…it was after some neo-Nazi tried to gas me. I needed to touch home base again. What really threw Hutch was when I started wearing the discs. Now you have to understand that my partner likes to think that he’s the brains and I’m the ‘not inconsiderable brawn’ in our duo but that’s ‘cos I let him. He’s the one who sits cross-legged chanting ‘Om’; I’m the one who meditates when I’m running in the woods near my place at night. I’m the one who reads about this stuff. This will make you laugh but it started with Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance…that guy got me to thinking. Then I lost Terri and I was in this bookstore looking for a gift for Edith Dobey’s birthday and I saw the Tibetan Book of the Dead. I figured after losing Terri I should take a look. I didn’t buy it but I saw a book along the shelf about the I-Ching and I bought that. And that’s when I started wearing the discs.  
When I was a kid I wore a Mogadov around my neck and for my Bar Mitzvah my dad gave me a tiny gold Mezuzah to wear with it. They were supposed to protect me – but after he died I took them off. I figured God wasn’t on my side back then. I still have them in a box in the bureau. If I get out of here alive I’m going to put wear them again….and the discs!  
The buzzing in my ears is getting louder again. I feel a weight on my chest; feels like it’s crushing me. I can’t breathe. My lungs are struggling but I can’t breathe.   
Nothing. There’s nothing there anymore. I’m floating and the dark angel is flying toward me. He’s smiling and holding out a hand. He’s flying alongside me now. We’re flying over the edge and he’s wrapping his wings around me. When I fall I know it won’t hurt.  
Into the chasm….  
Did I hear someone say they’d lost me?  
Shit! What was that? I hate shots…someone gave me a shot.  
I can hear them talking. Someone is pressing down on my chest…ow! Whatever he’s doing it hurts like hell.  
Did I hear someone say prepare the paddles?  
Owwwwwwwwwwwww!   
Shit that hurt.  
I can feel my heart trying to beat again. It feels bruised and sore and it is too weak to do it without help.  
Oh god …not again! If they knew how much that hurt they’d find a different way of doing it. Cruel and unusual punishment…I guess at least the condemned man only feels it once.  
The buzzing is getting fainter again. The weight is lifted but it is so sore.  
The dark angel is smiling and shaking his head. He’s flying away. There’s another angel in the distance…I can see his light. My guardian angel is back to watch over me…Raphael the healing angel watches over me still.  
I have another guardian angel here on earth. Hutch. And I’m his guardian angel; even if I don’t make it I’ll be there when he needs me. But I’m not going yet!  
I can feel the machine dragging air into my lungs. If they’d undo the damn thing I know I could do it on my own.  
The worst thing is that I can hear what’s going on around me but I can’t make them understand that I’m here.   
No, the worst thing is hearing Hutch crying in the middle of the night.  
He comes here every day as soon as he’s off-duty. He tells me how he and Huggy are getting closer to whoever is behind the shooting. I know who it is…it’s whoever was behind the drug ring we busted when my past came back to meet me in the shape of people who were supposed to be dead.   
Here I go again – thinking of death.  
So he comes in and sits by the bed and holds my hand. Sometimes he cups my cheek and strokes it with his thumb. He tells me how his day went and he runs it all past me just like normal times. We’ve always done that – run through things, thinking aloud and bouncing it off each other. Well there he sits and he tells me how he’s been to see some high class model who got caught up in hiring the hit-men; how someone tried to finish him off right here in the hospital garage…someone who had already tried to get into my room. Yesterday he started telling me about some shyster lawyer and then he cracked up again. He tries not to break but I know him so well I can hear it coming even before his voice starts choking and getting shaky.  
“Oh Starsk, it’s so hard….” And off he goes. He sobs quietly but the tears drip onto my arm or my hand. Sometimes he puts his head on my chest and I get worried that his tears will soak through the bandages and wreck my stitches. It’s hard for me too. I want to put my hand on the back of his head, or touch his cheek or maybe even take his hand and squeeze it to show that I know how much he cares. I want to sit up and cradle him while he cries.  
But I’m still locked into this darkness. I’m still somewhere in a dark cave looking over the edge of a chasm and trying my damnedest to stay away from the edge.  
I feel everything they do to me. The shots and the drips…it hurt like hell when they put that in the back of my hand. Nearly as much as the one they stuck up my cock back in ‘Nam. This time I guess I have some kind of tube direct from the bladder – either that or I can forget having a sex life ever again. Forget having a life? I’ve been in this coma for how long now?  
I lose track. Hutch reads to me from the paper sometimes – keeps me up to date with what’s going on.  
But I want to see the funnies for myself!

I need to sleep.

Hutch’s POV  
He can be so fucking irritating sometimes! It’s his charm too….his boyish charm. He just has to roll those deep blue eyes and anyone melts…me, Dobey and women – especially women. I figure Starsky could seduce a statue. He has a winning smile too; no Hutchinson, be honest, he has a collection of them! There’s the little half-smile, not much more that a hint of a smile playing on that perfect cupid bow mouth of his. Then there’s the half grin that spreads lop-sided and lights up his face like a cheeky kid. Finally he gives ‘em the full shot. A big toothy grin that spreads to his eyes and boy it’s contagious. He can smile like a dangerous shark too. That same toothy routine but the eyes stay almost cold. When Starsky throws that one you know you’re in trouble. He’s done it to me a few times – when he thinks I fucked up; or he thinks I’m asking/doing something dumb.  
He isn’t smiling now though; or is he? At rest, lying on his back, Starsky’s face falls into a slight smile. But behind a smile there should be an emotion – a feeling – a consciousness; and no-one knows if there is anything there any more.  
I believe there is. That’s why I come and talk to him every day. Lily will be here tomorrow. His beloved momma; he once told me he could never refuse her anything. If she sits and talks to him I know he’ll fight to come back.  
I’m still trying to get it straight in my head. We’d been playing table tennis in the squad room while it was being repainted. And we were playing some crazy game Starsky had invented; what did he call it...oh yes, song-title ping pong. The challenge was down. The winner got to choose the restaurant for dinner. I should have known better. To be honest I was dreading him winning….he’d probably choose some fly-blown taco stand in the kind of neighborhood no sane person walks into!  
He won…  
…and then he lost.  
He won the game and grinned at me. I remember Dobey’s face…was Starsky calling him a loser?  
Off he went down the hallway strutting in that weird way of his.  
As we walked out of the building he was rattling on about Lobster or was it New York steak?  
I saw it...  
... but I didn’t.  
I heard it...  
...... but I didn’t  
The black and white parked in amongst the unmarked cars….instead of with the other patrol cars.  
The sound of metal against metal.  
I froze.  
The whole scene played out in front of me in slow motion.  
Starsky went to open the car; he was putting the key in the lock.  
The black and white moved forward; it hit the car beside it….that wasn’t right.  
Instinct took over and I went for my gun.  
“Starsky!” I heard my voice screaming his name.  
Then I heard the shots. Some kind of automatic – a machine gun maybe?  
And Starsky wasn’t there.  
I stood and looked at where he had been; where he should have been; opening the door of the Torino and yelling at me to hurry up because he wanted that dinner date.  
The Torino was still there but Starsky wasn’t.  
Then I saw the windows. I saw the shattered glass and the bullet holes in the body work.  
I ran forward. I could see a pool of something red….as if the Torino was bleeding.  
Starsky was slumped against the back wheel – hunched up against it the way he huddled up to me a couple of times when the pain was too much.   
It wasn’t the Torino that was bleeding. I knew a car couldn’t bleed…but once… yes once….  
Some asshole bled the brake fluid! They cut the lines!  
The blood was Starsky’s. It was pooling out around him; too dark to be a flesh wound.  
He wasn’t moving. I waited for him to look up at me and say something obscene the way he usually does when he’s hurting. But Starsky wasn’t moving.  
I crouched down beside him.   
There were four neat holes in the back of his jacket.  
Is that a flier’s jacket?  
Yeah  
Where did you get it?  
Standard issue  
Huh?  
They put me in airborne – sharp shooter…but I got on the wrong plane! I kept the jacket.  
Careful what you’re doing! Aw shit! Look at that; you made me spill ketchup down my jacket! You know how much it costs to get a leather jacket cleaned, asshole? Hey Hutch, what do you think, we take him down now or after he’s licked all the ketchup off my jacket?  
Four holes in his back. My instinct was to run my hand up inside his T-shirt and check the exit holes…check out the damage.  
I let my fingers explore as gently as possible. I took my hand out of his T-shirt – it was covered in blood but I only felt two holes. He was bleeding from his wounds and he was bleeding inside.  
I turned his head towards me, cradling him and praying to a god I thought I’d left behind in Duluth. There was blood pouring out of his mouth. Bright blood. Foaming blood. He’d taken a bullet in a lung.  
“Where’s the fucking ambulance?”  
It must have been my voice but I didn’t recognize the fear-filled hysteria.  
Dobey was standing beside me.  
“Calm down Hutch; they’ll be here soon.”  
I could hear the sirens. I could feel him slipping away from me.  
“Hold on in there Starsky. Don’t leave me yet. Not here.”  
They took him away from me, the way you take a toy from a sleepy child. The eased him out of my arms and slid him onto a gurney. They put an oxygen mask over his face and took him away from me.  
Dobey helped me up. I was totally disoriented. I didn’t know where I was anymore. Part of me was slipping away…I was losing grip on myself.  
Dobey was reassuring. He called me ‘son’ and led me to his car.  
I wanted to take the Torino; to race after the ambulance with the siren wailing and all lights flashing, including the Mars that I’ve dropped more than once when it felt like he took a corner on two wheels.  
Dobey led me to his car. “The Torino’s damaged Hutch. You can’t drive it like that.”  
I felt in my pocket. I didn’t have the key. I stopped and looked at the ground where Starsky had fallen…it wasn’t there, just a pool of blood. He still had the key to his beloved car in his hand.  
We followed the ambulance. Dobey is a pretty good driver – but he’s not Starsky!  
That kid should be driving in the Indy. Who said that? Oh yea; the cop he was partnered with when we first hit the streets in uniform. Kid’s a real hot rod.  
Dobey stuck with the ambulance; then it slowed right down. It nearly stopped. Dobey swore.  
“What the…?”  
I knew; I did more than just pre-med. I rode in an ambulance a few times too…they slow right down when they have to revive the patient. Or when there’s no point in hurrying any more.  
“He’s dead. They slow down when…”  
But he wasn’t. Somehow he pulled through and the ambulance picked up speed again. And we were off in hot pursuit.  
I ran into Emergency but they wouldn’t let me near him. They led us to a waiting area.  
We sat and waited.   
Eternity.   
Hours or minutes.   
Eternity ticking away with the hands of the clock.  
They took him straight to surgery.  
The orderly came back with his stuff. He handed me the bundle wrapped up in the jacket.  
His personal effects…as if he was already dead.  
I unraveled the bundle. I pulled out the scruffy jeans and the blood-stained T-shirt. I flipped open the worn leather wallet and fingered his badge and ID. It had been his father’s wallet; I knew that if you took out Dave Starsky’s ID you’d find another one underneath. Behind David Michael Starsky, Detective Sergeant Second Class you’d find Moishe ‘Mike’ Starsky. His dad didn’t live to make detective.   
His gun was still in the holster. He had tried to pull it. When I found him his left arm was across his chest; his hand on the holster under his jacket. That’s where at least one of the bullets ended up…I didn’t see it until they put him on the gurney. Bright arterial blood, running out from under his sleeve.  
I couldn’t find the key.  
The doctor came out.  
He walked straight over to me. He knows us both well enough. He’s patched us both up before now. He came to me because Starsky and I hold power of attorney for one another….in case of a situation like this.  
“He’s alive, just. His heart stopped again on the table but we got him going again.  
Time will tell if we did the right thing.”  
I shook my head…did a double take like in a cartoon.  
“What do you mean?”  
“He’s very badly injured. There’s massive internal damage. I’ll give you the details later, Hutch.”  
He knows about my time in college. He knew how much I’d understand. He knew I wasn’t ready to hear it yet.  
“We don’t know if he’ll pull through. And to be honest we can’t even start to predict what his final condition will be even if he does regain consciousness. I’m keeping him in a deep coma for at least forty eight hours; then we’ll see what happens. I’m not making any prognosis; I’m not making any decisions either. We’ll talk about it again in forty eight hours.”  
“Can I see him?”  
He nodded and led me into the ICU. I wasn’t allowed to cross the line – I had to stay behind the window. I sat there with my chin on my hands and leaned against the glass and hoped that somewhere deep in his subconscious he’d get the signal. Me and Thee.  
He looked so peaceful. As far as we knew he had no idea of what had happened to him.  
As far as medical science knew; he felt no pain.  
I felt all the pain for him. Mental and physical. I shared his pain.  
Dobey tried to reassure me but I knew.  
“He’s dying…”  
Huggy arrived. I heard Dobey tell him about the two hit men dressed as cops.  
He’s dying and I couldn’t stop it happening.  
And if he dies I have no reason to go on.

Dobey’s POV  
I should have told them not to bother to come in. They both had leave coming to them but arguing with those two is worse than trying to convince Rosie to go to bed on Christmas Eve.  
There was nothing much to do. The boys had just squared off the dance-hall case and they’d made up their quarrel over that little bitch Kira. I had her transferred to another precinct and now I hear she’s put in to be sent to another city  
So there they were playing table tennis and bouncing song titles or something off one another.   
Starsky and Hutch at their best – banter and friendship and a perfect coordination between them that kept that ball pinging and ponging from one end of the table to the other. Starsky concentrating like a kid with his tongue in the corner of his mouth: then I saw it, the little signal that Hutch was going to lose. Starsky’s eyes glinted and he made that quick movement of biting his lower lip and sent the ball across the table to bounce right on the edge of the line and off out of Hutch’s reach.  
Starsky slapped his bat into my hand and made some remark about ‘sucker’ or ‘loser’….I don’t remember anymore. I was mad at him for a second before I realized he meant Hutch. But they were out of the room before I could say anything anyway.  
I looked at the painter munching his sandwich and remembered that I hadn’t eaten since six thirty that morning. I put down the bat and went back into my office to tidy up a couple of files before getting some lunch.  
I was coming out of my office when I heard the shots.  
It seemed like everyone in the building was running down the stairs to the garage.  
The crowd was already gathering. I walked out into the daylight and the first thing I saw was the car. Starsky’s pride and joy, the Torino. The side windows were shattered.  
My heart missed a beat. Were they still in the car? I looked again. The car was empty.  
A cop was using his car radio to call for an ambulance.   
I looked for the boys.  
I could see Hutch’s legs from behind the car. I couldn’t see Starsky.  
I went over to the Torino and had to bite back the sob that rose in my throat when I saw them.  
Hutch was crouched over Starsky, cradling him in his arms and weeping silently.  
Starsky’s face was deathly gray; a sharp contrast to the red all around him; the red paint of the car and the pool of blood on the ground. I lowered myself to be beside Hutch. He turned his tear-stained face to me and whispered ‘He’s going to die this time Captain.”  
I saw the four holes in the back of the jacket.  
They took Starsky away and I put Hutch in my car and followed the ambulance.  
So now we’re sitting here waiting for the doctor to come and tell us if he pulled through or not.  
An orderly brought his clothes and stuff for Hutch. He’s sitting there unwrapping the bundle that they made by putting everything inside Starsky’s leather jacket.  
“You know how he got this jacket Captain?”  
I knew more than Hutch about it but I let it ride. “No.” I said knowing that he needed to talk about Starsky.  
“When he got called up they found out what a good shot he was and made him a sharp shooter straight off. He got assigned to airborne.” Hutch forced a laugh, “can you imagine Starsky jumping out of a plane Captain? Anyway, he says he got on the wrong plane but he kept the jacket. I never knew if that was true or not…I guess I never will now.”  
“It’s true Hutch. He did it on purpose; slipped in with an infantry group marching to the next plane. Perhaps if he hadn’t…” I didn’t finish. If he’d gone with the airborne would he have survived to come back? Maybe he wouldn’t have taken the injury he did. All the what ifs and maybes in the world. It seemed to be a terrible irony that this brave young man had survived the horrors of war and appalling injury to be gunned down in a police garage.  
Hutch was fingering the wallet with the badge. Did he know about the ID behind Starsky’s? Yes, he did. He pulled it out and held the two photos next to each other.  
“You know Captain, he’s nearly the same age as his dad was when he was killed.”  
“I know.”  
Neither of us could say out loud what we were wondering; would he live to be older than his father?  
Hutch started hunting through the bundle. “There’s something missing. His keys, the key to the car; he was holding it when…” He choked and sniffed. “And his neck thong; you know those I-Ching discs he wears? It’s not here either. I guess they must have cut the thong and thrown it all away.”  
We sat and stared at the door to the surgery block and waited.  
I still think of Starsky as a kid. I first saw him when he must have been about fifteen and John brought him to a boxing contest for officer’s kids. “He’s not my son; but his dad was a cop and I’ve been keeping an eye on him.” The kid did pretty well; he knew how to defend himself but you could see he didn’t really want to fight for the sake of fighting.   
I saw him once more. John brought him in and showed him the whole process of booking to scare him. The kid was running with a rough crowd. “He lives with his uncle,” John told me and when he added the uncle’s name I understood.  
I remember when John told me that the kid had been called up and the relief when he came back. We didn’t know about John back then; not that I’ve ever thought there was anything more to his relationship with Starsky than that between a mentor and a kid who needed someone to turn to. No-one would ever call into question Hutch being a Big Brother would they?  
And then Starsky joined the force. John took care not to pull strings for him – but he didn’t need to; Starsky was made detective within eighteen months of graduating the Academy. I don’t think Hutch was too happy about that head start but he got there in the end and Starsky worked my ear off until I agreed to let them work together. It wasn’t the first time Starsky got a field promotion either. He went to Nam an ordinary GI and came back with a Second Lieutenant’s gold bar. John never really learned the details and Starsky is not exactly forthcoming on the subject anyway. I wonder if he’s ever told Hutch?  
The doctor just came over. He knows these two well. I lose count how many times I’ve been here sitting with the one while the other is patched up. They have a bond that no-one can really explain; if one is in the hospital the other sits vigil and somehow pulls him through.  
This time…this time is worse than ever before.  
The doc is talking to Hutch. He knows that the boys hold power of attorney for one another. He also knows that Hutch started out at school to be a doctor.  
He’s saying something about massive internal damage and waiting before making a decision. He says he’d going to keep Starsky in a deep coma for forty eight hours and then see what happens. I guess that means either Starsky stays in the coma or he comes through…or….  
Hutch is walking over to the ICU. They won’t let him in and he’s standing staring through the window with his hand on the glass; as if he’s willing Starsky to take his hand. He sits down and I think he’s praying. I’m praying too.  
It’s up to me to call the next of kin.  
I guess I’d better go back to the office and make that call before the networks pick up the story and Lily hears about it.

Huggy’s POV  
It was one of those quiet days when you have time to really look at the smears on the glasses. There were a few lunch-time clients sitting in booths or at tables. A couple of all-morning clients were at the bar nursing their glasses.  
I had the TV on as usual.  
“….at the Metro precinct an hour ago. At least one officer is injured……”  
I pricked up my ears. Metro is where Starsky and Hutch are based. They usually came here for lunch and I’d noticed that they were late. I figured they’d had to deal with whatever was going on. I turned to look at the screen  
Starsky’s face filled it. A nice photo, taken a few weeks back after the Mayor personally gave the guys their badges back.  
“…..Detective David Starsky….at least four bullet wounds…..in a serious condition…..no other news available at this time….”  
I reached for the ‘phone.   
They put me through to Minnie. She was crying. “He’s in Memorial…Hutch and the Captain are with him….”  
I yelled to the staff to hold the fort and ran out back to my car.  
Hutch was sitting staring through the glass at Starsky. He looked like he might be praying. Dobey was standing behind him. The pain and the anguish were written all over Hutch’s face. I asked Dobey and he said “two of them, dressed as cops”  
I never thought it would end like this.  
I remember when he arrived at the High School, a shy kid with an accent that didn’t fit in. He was slightly aggressive the way shy people sometimes are. Some of the other kids tried to give him a bad time and he got his nose bloodied a few times before he learned to fight back.  
His cousin was in my class. They were only a couple of months apart so Dave was put in our class too. Harvey didn’t exactly protect him; but enough of the kids knew about his dad’s connections not to try too hard.  
Harvey told me. “His dad was murdered and he’s a witness.” I found out later that Dave’s dad was a cop.  
We got on OK. He could be funny and intense. He was one hell of an athlete too.  
We finished school; just scraping graduation. I started running with JT and saving for my big move. Dave did a few odd jobs for his uncle’s connections and drove a cab.  
Then he got called up. He drank himself into a near stupor then walked out of the bar I was managing. I thought I’d never see him again.  
I didn’t recognize the young officer leaning heavily on a walking stick as he came down the stairs to the bar. He sat at the bar and pulled of his hat. “Get me a beer Huggy.”  
He’d been badly hurt. You saw the stuff on the news and heard about the number of casualties for the day – but you never thought it would be someone you knew. He nearly lost a leg…and an eye. He spent nearly six months in rehab and now he was home fighting to get really fit again.  
He went back to the odd jobs until he could run like before. Then he did what he’d always really wanted to do…follow in his dad’s footsteps. He signed up at the Academy and introduced me to this big blond lunk with a supercilious upper lip and announced that this was ‘Hutch’ and they were friends. Hutch turned out to be OK though – more than OK once he got over the culture shock of seeing how the real poor live.  
They are close. I’ve never seen anything like it. They almost live like shadows of each other; there have been plenty of people over the years who think they’re gay…I run on both currents and believe me those two guys are strictly for the ladies.  
But they love one another with an intensity that most married couples would like to have.  
And now Hutch is here; waiting to see if this time it really is over.  
Dobey has just stood up. “I’d better go and call his mother.”  
Hutch touched his arm. “Must you, can’t it wait until…”  
“No Hutch. If Huggy saw it on the local TV we can’t risk the national networks getting picking it up. I can’t let Lily learn about this from her TV.”  
We watched him walk away.  
I took Hutch by the arm. “Will they let you stay with him?”  
“Not tonight. Tomorrow; I can visit him tomorrow. But I can’t leave…I can’ risk not being here if…”  
He bowed his head and sobbed into the bundle of blood-soaked clothes. I sat beside him; if Hutch was going to sit vigil all night he was going to have company.  
I touched his arm the way I’d seen Starsky do so many times. Yea, I admit it, I’d like to get closer to Hutch…but I guess I should keep my distance.  
“How bad is it?”  
“He took four bullets Huggy. I only felt two exit wounds. Four bullets in the back, Huggy. One of them ripped up his arm too. He had his arm across his body – he was reaching for his gun when he fell. The bullet must have come out and lodged in his arm. It shattered his shoulder blade too. The doctor said he has massive damage. His heart stopped in the ambulance; and again on the operating table. How much can his body take, Huggy?”  
I knew how much it had taken in the past; but I’ve never really what Hutch knows.  
“He was badly hurt before.” I said carefully.  
“I know about that, Huggy. I know how he fought to keep his leg; how his arm was hurt too and how he nearly lost his eye on a bamboo shoot.”  
So that’s what he told you about that scar. I didn’t say it aloud  
“He pulled through Hutch.”  
“He was more than ten years younger too Hug. We’ve been through a lot since then. He’s taken more bullets; he’s been poisoned and gassed; his resistance is reduced.”  
“Physically, yes; but you know how stubborn he can be.”  
“He’s going to have to be more stubborn than any mule I ever saw this time.”  
“He’ll pull through”   
I was trying to convince myself.  
I thought of something; if I saw the TV so did Starsky’s folks. Dobey was getting in touch with his mom – and as she was in New York she might not have heard yet…but what about the others?  
Harvey arrived alone. He’d spent an hour trying to calm down his mom; Starsky’s Aunt Rosa. She’d gone hysterical the moment she heard the news on the TV. Harvey was here to check out the situation. Hutch had gone to the men’s room. Harvey sat next to me.  
“Do we know who did it Huggy?” He asked me. We go way back, I told you that. Harvey still works for the people Dave did odd jobs for. In fact they were a team; a damn good team.  
“Hutch said it was two guys dressed as cops.”  
“That’s not what I meant.” Sometimes he sounded just like Starsky (except for the accent); that same slow even grim delivery that held menace in every syllable.  
“No.” I said. “We don’t know who’s behind it. You hear anything?”  
“No. Benny’s got the feelers out but he doesn’t think it was a local hit.”  
“Who out of town would want to kill them?”  
“From what I heard….”  
He didn’t get a chance to finish. Hutch came back. He never really knew what to make of Harvey. They were not exactly friends – but not foes either. Starsky and his cousin got closer over the years and Hutch knows better than to get in between Starsky and his past.  
“Hi Harvey. How’s Rosa taken it?”  
Harvey rolled his eyes. He has deep brown eyes but you get a hint of the family resemblance when he does that. “How do you think? She went hysterical and dad had to stop her calling New York straight away. He made her agree to wait until I got back.”  
“Dobey’s already dealing with that.” Hutch said quietly – I heard the catch in his voice.  
Harvey stared at the floor. “That bad?”  
“Yea. His heart stopped in the ambulance and again on the table. They worked on him for three hours. Massive damage and the doc thinks they’ll probably have to go in again a couple more times if…”  
Harvey swallowed and put a hand on Hutch’s shoulder.  
“Don’t they think he gonna pull through?”  
“They don’t know. If he wakes up when they try to bring him out of the coma... SHIT!  
Even if he does wake up we have no way of knowing what state he’ll be in.”  
“One thing I know about Dave, he’d rather die than spend the rest of his life in a hospital.” Harvey said it so carefully that Hutch and I understood what he was saying.”  
“I have power of attorney before Lily arrives.” Hutch said. “But she would have to make that decision, not me. I couldn’t take him away from her without her permission.”  
The doctor came back and said he wanted to explain things a bit more to Hutch. Harvey and I watched them walk into an office along the hall.  
“He loves him, Huggy. He doesn’t want to lose him either.”

Hutch’s POV  
It was like one of those fat novels you buy to while away the plane trip; a new incident every two pages.  
I went to the men’s room. Dobey was sitting staring at the ICU.  
I went into the men’s room; as I went in another guy came out and nearly knocked me over – or maybe it was me too stunned to see where I was going.  
I started to splash water on my face. I noticed that the flush had stuck in one of the stalls. The something caught my eye, a reflection at the edge of the mirror; a leg on the floor. I opened the stall and there he was; one of the interns who had been checking Starsky’s vital signs only a few minutes earlier. I thought of the man who had brushed past me and understood. I ran out into the hallway and he was just about to slip into Starsky’s room. Tired as I was, I found the strength to tackle him. He fought back and I went down. One of the uniformed officers went after him.

Dobey installed an office in the hospital and I knew that I had to get back to work. There was no point in sitting moping and wondering if I’d ever see Starsky’s lop-sided grin again. Or whether I’d have to listen to one of his crazy tall stories about twenty-five pound births or men from Mars.  
Dobey was yelling at me, telling me that we had no leads. I said I was going out there to find them and he told me I’d be a sitting target. Then he said I had to wait until he found me a new partner. I couldn’t help myself. “I already have a partner.” I stormed out and was waiting for the elevator when Huggy caught up with me. “Car don’t work without keys”.  
The elevator arrived and it felt like a descent into hell! “Starsky’s going to die. Starsky’s going to die and there ain’t anything anybody can do about it.” I didn’t want to believe what I was saying. “But I’m still here and I’m going to find them.”  
The doors closed and I was alone in the parking lot. Huggy had told me that it was Dobey’s car. I walked over and had to ask an orderly to get his wheel-chair patient out of the way.  
The ‘patient’ had a knife. His partner shot him in the back trying to get me.  
I lost it. I fired into the air just past his ear…”who?”  
I radioed for help. Huggy recognized the name; Jenny Brown and top fashion model. I didn’t bother to avoid hitting the other guy’s car although he was cuffed to the door. The look of terror on his face was worth it. I was on my way to visit Jenny Brown.  
Jenny Brown’s lawyer sprung her before I could put her in a safer place (the fake orderly was killed in a holding cell). Whoever these people were they had a network that defied imagination.  
I was beginning to feel that I was fighting something so big that there was no way I could win. I needed Starsky there with me. I missed his company and I missed his way of looking a things. I needed his friendship too. I could hear his voice whispering in my ear “me and thee, Hutch. Me and thee.”  
Instinct told me something was wrong. I called the hospital to see what was happening and Dobey told me to get over there as quickly as possible. As I burst through the doors on the ICU floor I saw Dobey and Huggy and three or four uniformed officers standing staring at the scene behind the glass. Just as I came alongside Dobey the Doctor came out and said “He’s alive. I don’t know how, but he’s alive.” I learned then that Starsky’s heart must have stopped just as I thought I heard him saying “me and thee”.  
Huggy came with me to Jonathan Wells’ office. He waited outside while I went into the weasel’s lair. Wells was exactly that, a weasly little man with a big ego to match his big income. He looked up from the papers he was reading and pulled on his cigarette. Before I had a chance to get to the point his ‘phone rang. I waited politely while he answered it. Then I tried again; but that damn ‘phone seemed to be programmed to ring just in time to stop me getting the information I wanted. The next time it rang I grabbed his hand before he could pick it up. I told him to instruct his secretary to hold all his calls until I was finished…or I would tell her myself. He told her to hold his calls but made it clear that this was not going to take long. Bastard!  
I asked him who paid for Jenny Browne’s bail, but he just threw me back the old bullshit of not being able to divulge the information. I thanked him for enlightening me on the subject of prostitutes and left before he could react.  
The secretary was not at her desk and Huggy was looking pleased with himself. We waited for the elevator and she returned just as we stepped into it. She must have noticed the missing page from the desk-log just as the doors closed. We saw her lift the ‘phone.  
Huggy handed me the page. It listed all the calls in and out of the office that morning. I was wrong, lawyers like Welles are worse than hookers. With a hooker you know what the price will be. Lawyers bill you for every breath they breathe on your time. Looking down the list I felt kind of sorry for a couple of clients who were going to have to pay maybe one hundred times the cost of a ‘phone call to their exes just because Welles did it for them. One number came up again and again…and it was one of the calls that he took when I was in the room.  
‘Bates’ and an out of town area code.  
I put all the cash required into the pay-phone and gave the operator the number. Collect.  
When the call was answered I said nothing and hung up. Huggy asked me who Bates was. I told him I didn’t know but I did know where he worked. Gunther Industries; owned by James Gunther, the man who considered the post of President of the United States to be a drop in power.  
I rushed back to Metro to find Minnie. Minnie is our computer expert; She can sit in that windowless room with all those whirring and humming machines and type away at the keyboard until the readouts start falling off the printer.  
She has a very soft spot for Starsky (I think it’s mutual) and I knew she would stay in the computer room until she found every last detail about the man who might have ordered the shooting.  
It would take her at least two hours…I don’t know how those things work, and to be honest I’m not sure I want to. I decided to go over and spend some time with Starsky.  
As soon as I arrived Lily left to get some coffee. “I know you want to be alone with Davey, Ken. I’ll be back in a little while.” I watched her leave. She was amazing; she’d lost her husband to a bullet in an alley and now she was sitting with her eldest son; her beloved first born, praying that he wasn’t going to follow his father’s footsteps right to the very end.  
I sat by his bedside and stared at the tubes that were keeping him alive and the monitors that were bleeping to prove it. I started to pour out my heart. How it was getting to difficult to do this on my own. I turned away for a moment, not wanting him to see me cry but knowing how dumb that was because he was unconscious. I looked at him lying there with the sheet up under his chin; his long dark lashes were starkly black against his pale skin. The nurses were shaving him every day and his face seemed younger and peaceful.  
Then I noticed it. I pinched myself mentally and looked again. His nostril twitched. He had a tube up one nostril and he was twitching his nose as if trying not to sneeze. I walked over to the bed. One eyelid fluttered open. My heart thumped so hard I was sure that the nurse would come running to see what the noise was. Again, his eyelid fluttered again! Then he opened his eyes. Those beautiful deep blue eyes that I was beginning to think I would never see again were wide open and staring at me.  
I started to whoop and shout. The nurse arrived and grinned. When Lily returned she sat by his bedside and wept  
Minnie had worked wonders, all the information I had in front of me would have taken weeks to find if I’d had to read my way through all the files and press reports and god alone knows what else.  
Minnie handed me a thick wad of printout. “Be careful not to drop it Hutch, it would take hours to fold it all back again.” She grinned.  
I sat at my desk and started to work my way through all the information. Now and then I looked up automatically expecting to see Starsky perched on the back of his chair; his chin in his hand, grinning at me like some wild-haired Jewish imp.  
I underscored a couple of things and went on reading. After a few more pages things were beginning to fall into place and a terrible light dawned in my mind. A few weeks ago Starsky and I had been involved in a case so Machiavellian that we actually quit the force in disgust at what was happening to us. We came close to losing Huggy’s friendship when his friend became a witness in a complicated drug case. We promised him our protection and he was killed anyway. Starsky had taken an emotional knock too.   
When we quit the force we did it very publicly…it hit the local news. A couple of days later we came out of a café to find our car blocked by one of those little British sports cars. We were trying to get it out of the way when the owner appeared. She was very apologetic but Starsky seemed to be troubled by her. She told her that her name was Allison May and we exchanged addresses. Starsky seemed preoccupied and when I asked what was wrong he just muttered something about seeing a ghost.  
We were waiting for Allison to get ready for a date with us; Starsky started looking at a photo album that had been left on the table. He stared at the pages and said nothing. When she came back he stood up. “Laura?”  
It turned out that she and Starsky had been childhood friends – he called her parents Aunt Marion and Uncle Frank; then the whole family had been killed in a car accident and Starsky never saw Laura again. Until now. She explained that the family had been given a new identity by the FBI in a witness protection program and that it was no accident that we met. Her father was in trouble and when she recognized Starsky in the paper she decided to try to find him.  
Well to cut a long story short we managed to find out who was putting pressure on her father – but it was too late to save his life – and now I was looking at a computer printout that linked that story to the bullets in the garage. Bates. He had been behind the blackmail attempt against Laura/Allison’s father. He was on the board of directors of the mortgage company that was using information extorted from Mr. May and he was also Gunther’s personal Assistant.  
I gathered up the printouts and ran down to my car. All the way to the hospital I was thinking how great it would be to tell Starsky all this.  
He was sleeping. Lily had gone home with Rosa to get some real sleep for the first time since she arrived from New York what seemed like a year ago and was only a few days.  
I sat by the bed and started reeling off the information I’d found. He opened one eye and smiled at me.  
The nurse came in to see what the commotion was about this time. She was hatchet faced – but she was a sweetheart really and she was getting really fond of her special patient.  
Starsky nuzzled his head against the pillow as if to say ‘get out and let me sleep’. As I left I handed the nurse the printout and asked her to read it to him later. The last thing I saw was Starsky’s big grin.  
It took me a while to get all the evidence together in a way that would convince the DA to issue an arrest warrant. Because Gunther was in San Francisco I had to have a state-wide warrant and that had its dangers because he had connections in Sacramento – just like he had his puppets everyplace else.  
Two weeks later I was on a flight to San Francisco. I took a taxi to the Gunther building and marched straight up to the elevator that would take me to the Penthouse office suite.  
The black butler let me in. Gunther was behind his desk waiting for me. I looked at a wing chair that had been turned to face the fireplace. A man’s legs were visible and I could tell that their owner wasn’t aware of my arrival. Gunther smiled and apologized that Bates hadn’t been able to meet me. I looked at Bates. His mouth was twisted into a rictus and he held a broken porcelain cup in his hand. The porcelain had cut his hand when it broke under the pressure of his dying spasm; his hand was still bleeding.  
Gunther looked up at me and said “you’ve come to arrest me.” He opened a drawer of the desk and pulled out a gun which he waved at me. I told him that there was no point in killing me because if he did my partner would come after him…who was I trying to kid? For all I knew Starsky might never walk again; he still hadn’t spoken and he had a long period of hospitalization ahead of him. I said that if he killed Starsky then another cop would come after him and another until they finally got him. I guess I was talking up my own confidence faced with that gun. He lowered it and I lunged forward; for an old man he was surprisingly strong but I managed to force his hand up and the bullet hit the ceiling. I decided to humiliate him. I ordered him to assume the position across his desk. For a fleeting moment he looked like a naughty child waiting to feel the belt on his ass…I recognized it and bit the memory out of my mind. I cuffed him and recited the full Miranda, taking extra pleasure in emphasizing the bit about “if you do not have a lawyer one will be appointed for you”. I shoved him into the chair opposite Bates and called the local police as pre-arranged.

Starsky’s POV  
I wonder how long this is going to last. When will I come back up to the surface?  
I can hear their voices but I can’t hear what they are saying…not clearly. The buzzing in my head drowns it out.  
I hurt all over.  
Can’t anyone hear me screaming?  
Mom arrived yesterday. I have gotten used to the changing routines and now I know when it is day or night.   
I’m used to the footsteps too.   
A child recognizes his mother’s footsteps.  
She arrived not long before the day nurse left to go home to her boyfriend. She talks about him all the time; she tells me how much she wants to marry him but that he says he isn’t ready. I wish I could tell him to get on with it. I waited…I didn’t feel ready and I lost Terri.  
Mom sat on my bed. She is only five foot two and if she weighs more than ninety pounds I’d be surprised. I felt her weight on the bed. I knew she was trying not to cry. She kissed my eyelids.  
“Oh Dov.” She always used the Hebrew version of my name when she wanted to comfort me. My grandparents wanted them to call me Dovid but dad had decided that the family was American now and so they named me David. Poppa called himself ‘Mike’ but his police ID card said Moishe.  
She kissed my eyelids and took my hand in hers. I wanted to reach out to her but I’m trapped in here. She sobbed quietly and then started to sing one of the old Yiddish lullabies she sang when I was little – back in those special years when I had her all to myself before Nicky was born.   
She has such a pretty voice. She’s singing quietly as if she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. She’s singing my favorite song…I’m trying to sing it with her…can she hear me?  
Shlof mine kind mine treyst mine sheyner  
Schlof-zhe zunenyu…………..  
Sleep my child, my beautiful one  
Sleep, little son………  
It’s making me cry. She sang it to us after poppa died.  
He was my first dead body.  
I saw him go down and I dropped the bottle of milk that mom had sent me to get from the store. That’s why I don’t like to even see a strawberry milkshake! The first time I saw that glop of Hutch’s I thought I was going to throw up…he’d put cranberries in it and it was that same muddy pink.  
Dead bodies. I’ve seen plenty of them in my time. Out in ‘Nam and back here in Bay City. I thought I’d get used to it in the war: the guy who was running alongside you one minute and lying staring at nothing the next…or the village of the dead. It was the kids that upset me the most. Little kids lying by their parents each with a bullet in the head. That neat bullet hole you read about in the paperback novels; it doesn’t happen that much. Usually there’s broken bone and if they got it the head there might be brain coming out with the blood.  
I wonder how neat the holes in me are. I once told Huggy that there were bad guys out there who wanted to put holes in out bodies where there weren’t supposed to be holes.  
“I need that like a hole in the head.” Hey buddy try four in the back.  
Oh I felt them. It was quick and yet it lasted for such a long time. Slow motion.  
It felt like something hit me hard and then I felt the explosion of pain. The bullet burns as it goes in. I fell and I could feel my life seeping out of me. I heard Hutch yell. I felt his hands on me; trying to find the damage. His hands are big and kind of rough. He plays the guitar. Don’t believe that romantic novelist crap about “long sensitive musician’s fingers” Hutch has calluses on his fingers of the left hand from holding down the strings. His fingers are thick and strong. He has hands like a farm boy.  
He’s talking to momma now. I can hear her telling him ‘no’. Whatever it is mom will win. You try fighting a determined Yiddisher momma, Hutch!  
She’s holding my hand again. Singing Leila leila leila……….  
………….. another lullaby.  
She lost poppa; she’s not going to lose me.

I wonder how long it’s been. Hutch comes and goes. I hear him tell momma that he’s getting closer. When mom is taking a break he tells me what he’s doing and who he’s seeing.  
I’d love to have seen the shyster lawyer’s face when Hutch told him that he was a hooker in a three piece suit.  
That nurse is in here again. She has a gentle touch when she changes my tubes and my dressings. I felt her fingernails brush against my skin one time….she has long nails and that surprised me. I thought nurses kept them cut short and blunt.   
She talks to me while she’s doing all the things she has to do; talks me through it all.  
“I’m changing your catheter now David. Ok let’s see how those stitches are looking today.  
Changing the drip bag David…”  
She washes and shaves me too.  
I hear Hutch coming. Even in sneakers his footsteps tap tap along the linoleum! He never could sneak up on people the way I can…he never had to learn to look out for the tripwires.  
His sitting in silence. I can tell that he’s watching me. Now he’s started chatting about the latest development. He thinks this all has something to do with Uncle Frank’s murder.  
My nose is itching. Maybe if I try to twitch it….I feel like I’m going to sneeze…no…but I’m pretty sure I moved my nose; the itching has stopped.  
I can sense Hutch’s eyes on me. He’s watching me. Did he see my nose twitch?  
It feels a bit like when you dive to the bottom of the pool and then let yourself float back up to the surface. I’m coming back to the surface…  
Ok let’s see what else I can do. Come to the surface and …open….my…..eyes.  
Hutch is staring at me.   
Another big effort and I open my eyes again. The lids feel really heavy; like when you are so tired you can’t keep them open. But I have to open them now. I have to show him that I’m fighting back.  
I open both eyes this time.  
“Starsky! You’re awake!” Well he did go to college you know!  
They made him leave me in peace. Mom sat with me and the next time I opened my eyes there she was crying. I managed to entwine my fingers around hers.  
“Davey, oh Davey thank God.”  
Hutch was back the next day as excited as a flea on a stray dog. He had a ream of printout with him and he sat there reading bits of stuff to me. Every time he got to the name Bates he got so excited that I think he was going to burst. It took me a while to get into focus. I still have to concentrate to stay conscious for more than a few minutes. He was babbling on about Bates I tried my best but I was so tired. He was telling me how Bates works for Gunther and how Gunther owns all those mortgage companies that Uncle Frank was passing information to; and how Gunther Industries deals in all kinds of merchandise like pharmaceuticals – the legal and the illegal stuff.  
I snuggled my face into the pillow and tried to go back to sleep. The nurse took him away and he gave her all the paper. He was going to San Francisco to see Gunther and Bates. He made her promise to read the rest to me.  
Mom carefully folded all the paper and placed it on the bureau. Maybe I’ll be able to read it eventually.  
Right now all I want is for the pain to go away.

The shock came later. I know the doc well enough – he’s seen me through other scrapes in the past. I could tell by his face that things weren’t all hunky dory in Starskyland. Truth is when I came to for Hutch back there it was such an effort that I sank back into the deep, dark hole PDQ. I forced myself to wake up again when I heard the doc’s footsteps.  
The first thing I noticed was that I couldn’t feel pain.  
No, start again. The first thing I noticed was that I couldn’t feel anything!  
He smiled and sat by the bed. I had that bloody tube in my nose but I could try to speak.  
Try…my mouth was drier that a Mormon’s wedding. I wanted to ask him but nothing came.  
Momma came in behind him. She sat by the bed and smiled that brave ‘mommy’s here darling everything’s ok’ smile that mothers all over the world manage to summon up at the worst possible times. She reached under the blanket and took my hand. I remembered then that I could feel something when I was unconscious.   
I felt her hand and her kisses.   
I felt Hutch’s touch too.  
But now…  
The doc nodded at mom. She stroked my cheek. I felt that; at least I think I did or maybe my memory dragged up the sensation from deep inside my mind.  
“Do you want the good news or the bad news David?”  
I mentally nominated him for dumb-ass of the year.  
I managed to grunt “good.”  
“The good news is that you survived….”  
Gee I knew you had to bright to be a doctor but this guy must have come top of the class!   
“You survived four bullets in the back. Two were lodged in your internal organs. One exited through your arm because it was across your chest as you drew your gun; the fourth exited by your groin.”  
Who was it once called me numbnuts?  
“You also survived three cardiac arrests.”  
Three!  
“We have already removed the bullets and I’m afraid we had to remove a few other things too.”  
That’s when I noticed the tubes. There was one in my arm; but it was the two coming out from under the blanket that worried me.  
“You can live quite easily without a spleen David. Fortunately you don’t really need both kidneys either…one of the bullets damaged your right kidney so we had to remove a part of it.” He noticed I was trying to focus on that tube of yellow stuff. “That’s a catheter; now you are conscious I think we will be able to remove it as soon as…” He coughed and I understood. I’ve still got the equipment but it might have limited functioning. And momma was always nagging me for a grand child!  
“We had to remove a part of your colon and until that is entirely healed you have a colostomy.”  
Oh great!  
But he hadn’t finished. I listened as he reeled off the rest of the damage. One of my lungs collapsed and I had an infection in one of the wounds. One of the bullets touched my spine and brushed the spinal cord – they don’t know yet if it is bruised or bust; in other words they don’t know if I’ll walk out of here or not. It seems I also had massive internal bleeding and I dislocated my shoulder when I fell. Strike three and you’re out Dave; either they operated on the tendon or that’s coming later.  
I tried not to cry but I could feel the hot tears behind my eyes. Momma wiped them from my cheek.  
So now I’m lying here trying to decide whether I should have gone with the dark angel when I had the chance. I want to sleep.  
Hutch’s POV  
I think I could have flown back to Bay City without the plane. I was so elated at the fact that I had arrested the man who ordered the attempt on our lives. I must have had a silly grin on my face or something because the woman next to me started to kind of edge away as if she thought I was a sexual obsessive or something.  
Huggy met me at the airport. On the way to the hospital he brought me up to date about Starsky. He’s conscious now but in a bad way. He’s still paralyzed pretty much from the waist down and the damage to his arm and shoulder was far worse than they thought at first. He’s scheduled for another operation on his arm tomorrow.  
He was asleep. His mom was singing to him softly; it sounded a bit like German but I knew it wasn’t…she sings to him in Yiddish. They speak Yiddish to each other now and then – especially when Starsky doesn’t want anyone else to know what he is saying. But I understand a bit of German and more important I speak fluent Starsky. He doesn’t just communicate with words. Starsky can say more than a Shakespeare soliloquy with those blue, blue eyes. He can also signal far more than most people understand by the way he says things. I can decipher the ten degrees of Starsky’s anger scale; I also know his fear scale too. Most of the time he talks with his mom in Yiddish, he’s scared.  
I walked in and stood behind Lily. She seems so small and frail but she is as tough as her son when she has to be.  
Starsky smiled wanly and Lily stood up to hug me. “Come outside for a moment,” she whispered in my ear. I followed her out of the room.  
“Oh Hutch!” she was fighting back the tears. “He’s so unhappy. He keeps saying he doesn’t want to live if he can’t walk again.”  
I touched her arm. “He’s as scared as he is angry right now, Lily, you should know that. He fought back before didn’t he?”  
“I know.” She bowed her head to hide the tears and I pulled her into my arms. She wept softly against my chest and I just held her gently allowing her to get it out of her system.   
After a couple of minutes she went to the restroom to repair the damage so that Starsky wouldn’t see that she’d been crying. Some hope! He can sense these things; and his mother can’t hide much from him. Funny that; Starsky can hide his emotions – and does – even from me. I understood how bad it must be for him if he was saying things like that. I took a breath and walked back into the room.  
I couldn’t help looking at the catheter tube and the colostomy bag hanging by the bed. Starsky said sourly “is this what I’m reduced to, Hutch, a helpless bag of shit and piss?”  
I was furious with him. “Don’t ever say a thing like that again David Starsky or so help me….”  
“So help you what?”  
“I don’t know but I’ll think of something.” That made him laugh but the chuckle turned to sobs.  
“I can’t face it Hutch. I can’t even think of being in a chair all my life. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life helpless.”  
“The doctors don’t know if it’s permanent Starsk; have a little confidence in them.”  
“Don’t know or don’t want to tell me? I’ll bet they’ve told you more haven’t they? You and your pre-med studies…I’ll bet they’ve told you plenty they ain’t telling me!”  
The outburst took me by surprise. Starsky hadn’t thrown my college background at me for years and now he was turning it against me; accusing me of some kind of conspiracy with the doctors who weren’t telling him the truth. I sat down by the bed and took a second to gather my anger and re-aim it where it would do some good.  
“That’s bullshit and you know it! Right now you are recovering from injuries that most normal people would be dead from by now.” He opened his mouth and I held up a finger. “Let me finish. You took four high velocity bullets at close range; they ripped through your body and damaged every internal organ that got in the way. Your heart stopped in the ambulance, on the operating table and again in ICU. Now add to that the fact that you aren’t a kid anymore and that you’ve been shot and poisoned and beaten senseless in the past few years – let alone what really happened to you in Nam that you’ve never told me or your mom about. What I’m trying to get through that thick skull of yours and into that not-at-all thick brain is that you are a fucking medical miracle!”  
He allowed himself a tight smile. I hadn’t finished.  
“You are also one of the most impatient people I have ever met. You were in a coma for over two weeks Starsky and you’ve only been fully conscious and capable of staying awake for more than a couple of hours for two days. Your body has a lot of healing to do. It isn’t going to happen overnight. Ok you want to know what they haven’t told you. They haven’t told you that you are fucking lucky to be alive; they haven’t told you that you are a pain in the ass to nurse and they haven’t told you that miracles don’t happen over night.”  
“Whoa. All I want to know is if I’m going to walk again damn it!”  
I shook my head. “You’ll have to wait a few more days Starsk. The doc is pretty sure that the paralysis is due to some kind of pressure on your spinal cord. If it’s bruising it will get better in another few days – of not….”  
“If not it’s a wheelchair, right?”  
“No, if not they’ll open you up to see what is putting pressure there and so something about it.”  
“OK so supposing I believe you on that one…”  
“Why shouldn’t you believe me?”  
“Because I’m a big grown up boy Hutch; I know about bruising, bruises heal in a few days; I’ve been here over two weeks.”  
“And you are lying on the bruise. The pressure of your body weight isn’t helping. Just be patient buddy, please.”  
I must have put more into that ‘please’ than I realized. Starsky looked at me with big sad blue eyes and said quietly “OK. Now I have another question.”  
“Yea?”  
“What have you done with my momma?”   
“She’s human Starsky and she doesn’t have a bag or a tube to do it for her.”  
His eyes changed from misery to impish and I knew that Starsky had decided to fight.

EPILOGUE  
Starsky’s POV  
It’s been almost a year now. Mom went home not long just before they finally let me out of the hospital.  
They didn’t want to release me at first; said that until I could use stairs I should live in a one-story house. But I wasn’t going to give up my tree house that easily. In the end they gave in. I guess my temper was a match for all of them.  
Hutch wheeled me out of the hospital and the nurses lined up for a goodbye kiss. Hey there were more of them there than I recognized. I was flattered but I also wondered if someone who shall remain nameless but has blond hair and a ridiculously straggly mustache wasn’t trying to boost my morale a little.  
God knows it needed it.  
Four months earlier I had been a fit and healthy man in his early thirties. I could run a mile without thinking about it and without blowing my trumpet too loud I could keep a lady happy long into the night. My body was good; lean and muscular with a nice covering of hair on my chest, arms and legs and I had a permanent healthy tan. I weighed in at just under one seventy.  
The day I left the hospital I was haggard and pale. I was down to one thirty and looked like a ghost. I had ugly scars on my chest and back and one of my arms. And I was in a wheelchair because I still couldn’t walk more than three steps at a time.  
Four months earlier I had been a cheerful confident young man with everything to look forward to – including dating a pretty stewardess I’d met at Huggy’s place a couple of days earlier. Sure I could be moody but I flared and calmed down again. Nothing depressed me for long.  
The day I left the hospital I’d had a one hour crying jag because I didn’t want Hutch to have to carry me up the stairs. I’d hauled myself out of bed despite the pain that ripped through me every time I tried to stand without support. I’d managed to grab the crutches and I’d set out for the hallway determined to get up a few steps of the stairway over by the elevators. I fell before I got to the bedroom door. Pain, frustration and humiliation got the better of me. I threw the crutches at the door and lay there screaming for help.  
Hutch found me; he gathered me up in his arms and eased me back to the bed, “hey Starsk still trying to run before you can walk?”  
He wheeled me out to the car; my car, shiny and red looking like nothing had ever happened to it. That set me off again. My car had recovered but would I ever be able to drive it again?  
Hutch put his arm round me and pulled my head onto his shoulder. “Get it out of your system buddy. I promise the next time you ride in this car you’ll be driving.”  
He kept his word. Whenever we had to go to my appointments at the rehab center and the follow up clinic, we went in his car.  
Hutch was my guardian angel. I teased him about getting him a costume like the one I had to wear when we went undercover to investigate death threats against a wrestler.  
He nursed me and fed me and massaged me and cleaned me up and did everything he could to give me hope.   
Little by little I learned to walk again..  
…again! I’d been there before after all; the long struggle with crutches and then a cane until the wonderful day when baby takes his first unsupported steps again. But the last time my body was twelve years younger and there had been no internal damage.  
I didn’t just work on my body…I guess you could say I worked on my mind too.

Yes, Hutch was my golden angel.  
My dark angel was there too. Watching and waiting, his wings folded across his chest ready to stretch out and envelop me and take me away from all this pain and misery.  
He stepped forward once. Three weeks after they let me go home my lung collapsed again. The doc said I’d been trying too hard too soon. I got emphysema and I lay there trying not to drown while the tubes drained the fluid off my lungs cavity. I saw him step forward and smile. He opened his wings and smiled at me, encouraging me to take refuge in his embrace. I thought of the pain that I had gone through and the pain to come. I smiled back.  
“Hey Starsk if you get out of here in time I’ll take you to the Dodgers’ opening game.”  
My golden angel won.   
I shook my head and the dark one smiled and stepped back into his corner.   
He folded his wings again and settled to wait his turn.

Today is an important day.  
Last week I had my final follow-up appointment at the clinic. The doc was pleased to see me walk in almost like before. I still have to take painkillers now and then and the anti- inflammatory pills and the anti-depressants are still in the cupboard in my bathroom. Oh and Hutch takes my temperature every day to make sure I don’t have an infection starting up someplace. I could do it myself but I think he doesn’t trust me.  
I’m in the bathroom now. My dress uniform is hanging on the door.  
I looked at my body in the mirror as I stepped out of the shower. Most of the external scars are fading now and I’m doing my best to deal with the emotional ones.  
I can hear Hutch pacing around out there.  
“Come on Starsky, we’ll be late!”   
Ha! He’s the one who has always been pathologically incapable of turning up on time and he’s moaning at me!  
I glance at my wristwatch on the washstand.   
Plenty of time.   
Plenty of time to decide what I want to do.  
I pick up the razor and flip open the blade.  
I can see him behind me, reflected in the mirror.  
He outstretches his arms and for the first time I hear his voice. It is a low and reassuring voice. He speaks slowly and clearly.  
Can you handle a year of desk work before they review you again? I can take you where you will never feel pain or frustration.  
He spreads his wings and steps up behind me.   
I lift the blade to my chin.  
“Starsky will you get a move on.”   
Hutch opens the bathroom door and stares at me. Our eyes lock in the mirror and I see the horror on his face as he realizes that there is no lather on my skin.  
I put down the blade and pick up my shaving brush and start to cover my stubble with the shaving cream.  
The dark angel steps back again and fold his wings across his chest.  
“Ladies and Gentleman; Chief of Police Ryan will now officially designate the new officers in the Bay City Police."  
One by one each man steps out of ranks to be given his new grade. Lieutenant Second Class, Sergeant Second Class, Sergeant First Class….  
"Lieutenant First Class, Kenneth Hutchinson.”  
I watch out of the corner of my eye as Hutch steps forward to have his new insignia pinned on his uniform. We took the exam together; no-one doubted that he would pass.  
Ryan calls the others forward.   
“Ladies and Gentleman I feel I have to say a word about the next officer. A year ago it was possible that he would be wearing his dress uniform for the last time with his fellow officers surrounding his coffin. However David Starsky is not a man to give up a fight. It is with great pleasure that I call him forward now to receive the insignia of ….”  
I saw Hutch smile proudly.  
“….Lieutenant Second Class.”  
I step forward. I’m exactly the age my dad was when he was killed; and I’m still here.  
Hutch comes over to me and hugs me. Dobey grins. “You make a habit of getting double promotions don’t you Starsky.”   
We all laughed.   
“Hey,” Huggy asked, “do we call you Lieutenant or Lieutenant Second Class?” He was referring to the fact that although I passed the exams I got an extra promotion for bravery….just like I did in the Army.  
“Starsky will do just fine I said.”  
I heard a rush of air and it seemed as if a shadow passed over the corner of the Academy parade ground where we standing.  
I looked up and saw my dark angel fly away.


End file.
